


Broken Wings

by ScrollingKingfisher



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Broken Bones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Sabriel Week, Soul Magic, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/pseuds/ScrollingKingfisher
Summary: Sam only just got Gabriel back. He wasn't going to let him die again, even if he had to rip himself apart to do it.





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, day 1 on Sabriel Week 2019! Hurt/comfort abounds, and I'm thrilled to contribute to what I hope will be an annual event!
> 
> Of course events like this wouldn't be the same without people creating alongside you, and I was honoured that the lovely CactusCat chose to make a banner for my story! I hope to insert it in here in the next day or so when I figure out how, so make sure to check back ;)
> 
> Also a massive thank you to Vik, who was kind enough to beta this with the very minimum of warning and did an amazing job of it! You're the best! <3
> 
> This fic wouldn't exist without the encouragement from all the lovely peeps from the sabriel discord, so a big thank you to everyone who's been sprint-writing with me over the last few weeks!
> 
> Enjoy ;)

Once, when Sam had been very young, a bird had flown into the window of their motel room. 

He remembered jumping up at the loud _bang_ , running to the other corner of the room, the shock of it making his heart beat fast. It hadn’t been long since he’d discovered the truth about what exactly his father’s job was, so his first fearful thought had been a monster coming to get him- something hungry, reaching in through the window with long arms and hooked claws, pulling him out to feed him to sharp teeth. 

But nothing had moved. No monster had come for him.

He finally gathered the courage to peek out of the door, too-big knife clutched in his shaking hands, and there it was. Just a bird, lying stunned on the concrete under the window. 

He thought it was dead at first. But when he stepped closer, it jerked away, making him leap back again. 

But it was only trying to get away- one wing was dragging behind it as it hopped across the concrete, fanning out on the ground in a way that instinctively he knew it shouldn’t. Tentatively, Sam had stepped closer, putting down the knife so he could corner it against the wall and scoop the still-fluttering creature into his hands. 

For all its previous attempts to escape, it didn’t try and fly when he picked it up. Just stared up at him with one dark eye, breast heaving too-fast, feathers all fluffed out with stress. Claws tickled against his palm, flexed as they gripped his fingers. It was so soft, sitting there in his palm. So light. So incredibly delicate and fragile. 

Ever so carefully, Sam had carried the injured creature inside. Maybe, he’d thought, if he could just let it rest, it would heal. Maybe it would be able to fly again. 

He managed to keep it for three days, in a little shoe box under his bed, feeding it tiny scraps of food. He’d talked to it, stroked small fingers over the silkiness of its feathers. He’d release it as soon as it was well, he promised himself. Birds weren’t meant to be in boxes. When that wing stopped lying at its unnatural angle, he would take it out to the scrub at the back of the motel and watch as it flew away, free again. It would make him a little sad when it was gone, he knew, but it would be worth it.

Until one night, his Dad came home and heard the rustle. 

“What’s that there, son? Why’ve you got a bird in here?” 

“Dad- Dad, careful!” 

John shook his head down at the fluttering creature trying to escape his grip, his brows low and dark with a frown. “Sammy, it’s not gonna heal. That wing there’s broken, see? Birds can’t mend from broken wings.” 

“It’s fine! It’s getting better! No!” 

Sam remembered the desperation in his chest, the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes as the bird scrabbled at the cage of his Dad’s hand. As those fingers closed around it. At the soft _crack_ of its neck, the way the struggles turned to shudders, turned to stillness. 

“I’m sorry, but it would never have gotten better, Sammy. You were just prolonging its suffering. You can’t fix everything, son.” 

Sam had evaded the comforting hand (the hand that had killed it, he had _killed it-_ ) and scooped up the tiny body. He had run from the room, out into the scrub behind the motel, ignoring his Dad’s calls to come back over the sound of his own tears. 

He hunkered in the dirt, the sobs tearing from his chest. He couldn’t stop playing the bird’s death throes over and over in his mind. The little creature that he’d tried to care for was limp and boneless in his hands, nothing of the life he’d seen in it, none of that stubborn will to survive. The head lolled limply, its beak a little open, eyes half-closed, broken wing half-spread, even in death. Too fragile.

Sam had refused to come back inside that night. He buried the bird in the scrub, and fell asleep curled up on the hard ground next to the little pile of rocks. 

He woke up back on the motel bed mattress, Dean curled up at his back, their Dad slumped snoring at the rickety table, light still on, journal still open in front of him.

It took him a long time to forget about the bird. By then, he had bigger things on his conscience than the hollow bones of a long-dead creature, curled under the cairn where his smaller hands had buried it. But his Dad’s words still occasionally echoed in his mind; _you can’t fix everything, son._

.o0o.

_Many, many years later_

“So, uh… Welcome to the team!” 

Gabriel’s gaze snapped towards him. Sam saw those familiar caramel eyes flicker over his face, and he couldn’t help his hopeful smile, the little skip of his heart. For half a second, Gabriel hesitated, like he had at Crawford Hall when they first met, considering, but then-

“Uh, yeah. Not so much.”

Sam’s heart sank again.

Gabriel stood, easing himself gingerly to his feet, and started edging around Sam and Cas, not taking his eyes off them as he backed away. “I mean, thank you for the rescue and for the redemption arc. But, uh, I'm not really a team guy, so I'm gonna bounce, okay? Um, but, you know, it's been, um... What's the opposite of fun? That.”

Cas stepped forwards, and Sam could see the frustration in every line of his body. “No, Gabriel, don't -- you -- you can't just walk away! If Michael comes here, he will end this world!”

Gabriel’s expression hardened, closing off. “And the last time the world was ending, I put my money on you.” He threw Sam a wink, but there wasn’t the usual humour behind it. “I think you can pull it off again.” 

He turned away.

Cas stepped forwards, and Sam had to grab his arm to hold him back as he threw angry words towards the back of Gabriel’s head. “No! You cannot turn your back on your father's creation!”

The muscles in Gabriel’s back visibly tensed. But when he spoke, the words were quiet and controlled. “Castiel, my father turned his back on his creation. Guess it just runs in the family.”

Sam let go of Cas, stepped forward and held out a hand, as if he could stop him leaving- “No, Gabriel-!”

But Gabriel was already gone, a flutter of wings all that was left in his wake. 

Sam let his hand drop, staring dejectedly at the staircase where he’d been just a second before. 

They’d just gotten Gabriel back. He’d thought that the archangel had been gone for so long that the grief Sam had felt had almost faded- well, maybe not, but dulled by enough years and other horrors that he could finally bear to look back with fondness on their secret encounters between being trapped in TV land and the horrible events at the Elysian Fields hotel. So when he had seen the absolute wreck of a man being dragged into their library by Ketch, he hadn’t known what to think. Instinct had taken over. God, he’d just wanted Gabriel to be well again- to have that snarky attitude back, his eyes sharp and calculating, challenging and defiant instead of glazed over. There had been more tenderness between them as Sam tried to awkwardly nurse him back to health than there had been during any of their desperate encounters in the final days of the apocalypse. And now he was gone, _again_. And the thought that it was Sam he was running from this time stung more than anything.

Sam took a deep breath, pulling himself together and turning to where Cas was staring moodily at the empty Gabriel-shaped space. “So… what now?”

  
  
“We wait for Dean to get back,” Cas muttered darkly, turning away and walking towards the war table. “Then we can go start hunting for my brother.”

Sam opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He’d seen Cas in this mood before, and he knew there was nothing much he could do to improve it. And he certainly wasn’t going to suggest that maybe it would be better to leave Gabriel alone right now.

“I’ll… I’ll go get ready, I guess.”

He wandered back to his room to pack a duffel, his footsteps seeming to echo especially loudly in the silence. The scene kept replaying in his head as he threw the bag onto the bed. Every time it did, Gabriel looked more haggard than the last. Sam had never seen him like that before- Gabriel had always been so calm, so in control to the point of arrogance, and it had driven Sam crazy. But even when he’d cracked just enough for Sam to get a glimpse of the man behind the ego, Gabriel had never been that hurt, that easily panicked. Hell had really done a number on him.

Guilt tugged at Sam’s heart. Fuck, Gabriel had been so clearly overwhelmed, what had they been thinking dumping all that on his shoulders?

His hands paused, resting on top of his clothes for a second before he zipped it up and swung it onto his shoulder, walking in the direction of the garage. He’d try to put Dean and Cas off, he decided. He’d try and give Gabriel at least a little breathing room before they forced him to get involved in their drama again, because sure they needed help, but if it was gonna drive Gabriel into the ground then it wasn’t worth it. 

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the figure slumped against one of the cars until he was close enough to hear the heavy breathing. 

“Aah!” 

He jumped, startled, hand going to the gun in his jeans as his bag dropped onto the floor with a solid _thunk_. The figure jumped too, staggering back only to freeze again and groan lowly in what was unmistakably pain. Two pinpricks of gracelight gleamed momentarily before sputtering back into darkness, and Sam realised who it was.

“Gabe?” He whispered, his gun slowly lowering. “What the hell are you doing out here, man, I nearly shot you!”

“Sam! Well, if it isn’t my favourite neanderthal. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised it’s you that found me. You always were too good at the ol’ hide-and-seek.” 

Sam could hear the strain hidden behind the false cheer in Gabriel’s voice. He squinted, trying to get a better look at him, but he could barely make out Gabriel’s silhouette.

  
  
“Are… are you okay?”

  
  
“Just peachy! Uh, you um, you know me. Thought I’d snoop around the place before I skadoodled. Interesting pad you got here.” 

He was breathless, Sam realised. He couldn’t catch his breath and he was trying to hide it. 

Gabriel sidled backwards. “And I won’t say it’s been fun, kind of the opposite, but I’ve had a good look around, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now-”

“Wait!”

Sam reached out, thinking to grab his arm, but Gabriel _jerked_ back, one sharp movement of instinctive terror.

_“Don’t touch me!”_

Sam flinched back at the raw fear in Gabriel’s voice. He held his hands up, letting Gabriel stagger away. And he was properly staggering, Sam could see him more clearly as his eyes adjusted. He was tripping over his own feet and leaning heavily on the car as he tried to escape. Tried to escape from _Sam,_ and it made something twist in his chest to see Gabriel so terrified of him. 

But there was no time for that, because there was something very wrong about the way Gabriel was moving. Like a fish flopping on the shore, gasping for breath. Like something he’d seen once before. A memory tickled the back of his mind, the dry stale petrichor smell of hot concrete under a motel window, a flash of feathers, and it gave him a sick feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

He kept his voice low. “Gabe, what’s wrong?”

  
  
“Don’t you ‘Gabe’ me,” Gabriel’s voice was even more breathless than last time, and he was dragging himself away from Sam along the car. “I’m older than your sun, I’m too… too big to have a nickname. You should be calling me, uh, ‘Gabriel the Magnificent’, or-”

“Gabriel, please, let me help, you’re injured-”

  
  
“Injured?” Gabriel laughed, but it was all wrong. He tried to take another step back, but his leg collapsed from under him, and he had to scrabble at the car to right himself again. “Huh, what? Me, injured? I told you, I’m... I’m fine! I’ll just hang out here for a second, and then I’ll be on my way. You can do that for me, can’t you, Moose? You’ve got a soft spot for me, I hope, just like I’m soft as butter for you, have… have been since we met.” He stopped, gasping for air.

Sam stopped, surprised. “What?” His brain spun over that sentence. Because sure, they’d fucked when things were getting desperate, but that had been all it was for Gabriel, right? A release of pressure? There had never been any time for softness.

But Gabriel kept going, looking up to meet his eyes, pleading. “So could you do me a favour? Give me half a second to catch my breath out here without my brother and your brother breathing down my neck. Just go back inside and I’ll… I’ll be out of your hair, when you get back. Please, Sam, please just go,” He was rambling now, begging around laboured breaths, and Sam could see the desperate twist of his grimace in the light from the open door behind them. 

Sam shook his head, took another step forward. “Gabriel-”

Too close. The scuffle of beating wings filled the garage, and Gabriel vanished with a flicker, but half a second later there was a flutter and a _BANG_ outside the doors. A half-beat of silence, and then a scream split the air, a horrible, raw, grating sound of agony that made Sam’s hair stand on end.

“Gabriel!? GABRIEL!!”

Sam ran to the doors, wrenched one open, threw himself out. The moon was mercifully bright, casting enough light down that he could see the figure collapsed on the ground.

Sam skidded to a stop next to him, getting down on his hands and knees, paying no attention to the chill of the air or the gravel digging into his legs. Gabriel’s breathing was loud and ragged up close, low groans still leaking out of him. 

“Gabriel? Can you hear me?” 

No response. Shit. He flinched when Sam laid a hand against his arm, but didn’t seem to have the strength to move away again. Above them both, there was the sound of feathers fluttering, and Sam panicked. 

“No! Gabriel, don’t fly, I think that’s making it worse! Stay, stay here, hang on. CAS! I need you out here!” He yelled behind himself towards the open door. Gabriel started shaking under his hands and Sam turned back to him. “Come on, stay with me. Gabriel, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Sam? What are you doing out here, I heard a scream. What’s going- Gabriel!” 

Cas’ footsteps crunched loud over the gravel behind him as he approached at a jog. Gabriel jerked again, a low, agonised moan slipping past his lips. Cas’ footsteps stopped with a sharp intake of breath. “No!”

Sam half turned again. “Cas? What is it? He isn’t answering, I don’t know what’s wrong-”

“We need to get him inside. Now.” 

Sam opened his mouth again to ask, then closed it again, nodding. Cas’ sharp tone brooked no argument- Sam could ask again when they’d got Gabriel some place warm. 

Cas stooped, went to grab him, but Sam held him back. “No! I’ll do it. I’ve got him. You get the doors for me.”

Cas paused, looked between them and huffed, but turned back towards the bunker. 

Sam turned back to Gabriel and bent down close. He didn’t want to startle him into trying to fly again, but they needed to get him into the light so they could see what was wrong. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m gonna pick you up now. I know you’re hurt, and I’ll try and be gentle, but you gotta stay still, okay? You gotta stay still for me.”

Gabriel didn’t give any indication that he’d heard, but the shaking didn’t stop, and Sam knew they needed to move. They couldn’t spare any more time. Crouching, he slipped his hands under Gabriel’s armpits, rolling him and sitting him up. After half a second of struggle, and a weak attempt at prying Sam’s hands off, Gabriel made a quiet whimper and fell silent. He was worryingly limp in Sam’s arms, his skin feverishly hot to the touch, and with every new symptom Sam’s concerns grew. 

With some more shuffling, he managed to get Gabriel’s torso draped over his shoulder, grabbing his legs and one of his wrists in a fireman’s carry. He could feel Gabriel’s heartbeat against his back. It was too fast, almost fluttering. He stood with a grunt of effort, wincing as his knees popped, then set off back towards the light coming through the open door.

He was huffing under the weight by the time he was walking down the corridor. 

“Cas?”

  
  
“In here!” Came a muffled voice from the library. Sam quickened his pace, and Cas met him at the door. “Here, let me help get him on the table, this was the only room big enough.”

  
  
_Big enough for what?_ Sam thought, but he was too busy helping Cas to manhandle Gabriel onto the table. As gently as they could, they set him down.

He looked so much worse in the light. His face was an awful grey colour with a sheen of sweat, his eyes half open and rolled back into his head so only the whites showed. The shaking had stopped, but the stillness that replaced it was almost worse. The only thing moving now was his chest, shallow and too fast. 

“Jesus, Cas, what’s wrong with him?”

  
  
Cas’ lips were pursed tight together. “Nothing you can see, Sam.”

Sam looked sideways at him, brain flashing through everything he knew about angels. “Nothing I can see? Is it… is his true form injured?”

  
  
Cas nodded. “His wings. Something… Asmodeus must have broken them. He was hiding them before, when he was in the room. He must have projected a false shadow. He always was good at illusions. I didn’t see how damaged they were…”

  
  
Sam looked down at Gabriel’s prone form. Broken wings. It certainly explained why he hadn’t gone far, and that horrible scream when he’d tried to fly... 

“But… why’s it affecting him so much? I thought angels didn’t need their wings to survive? I remember Gadreel’s were nearly gone and he was hardly affected. Didn’t yours, you know… in the fall?”

  
  
Cas ignored the awkwardness of the question, shaking his head. “Wings contain large… grace vessels, I suppose, similar to the vessels that carry blood around the human body. When the fall happened, our wings were burnt- that cauterised the wounds and sealed our graces inside our vessels. But Gabriel… this injury is different. The structural elements of the wings have been snapped. There’s no direct translation, but I suppose you’d call them ‘bones’. He’s bleeding out from the inside.” Cas shuddered, looking away like he couldn’t bear the sight. “Basically, Asmodeus _shattered_ them, Sam. He _broke_ him. He ensured that Gabriel will never fly again, even if he survived this. There is no worse violation, for an angel.” 

Sam looked down at Gabriel, the too fast rise and fall of his breath. All the ways Asmodeus had hurt him, even where Sam couldn’t see. He wanted to pick him up again, take him deeper into the bunker and lock it down where nothing could get at them, where nothing could hurt him anymore.

  
  
He turned to Cas. “So what do we do? How do we stop it?”

  
  
Cas closed his eyes. “There is very little we can do, Sam.”

“Come on, Cas, there has to be something! Could you set the bones? Would that stop the grace leaking?” He had an idea. “What if we brought the wings onto this plane? If they were physical, could physical things affect them? At least then I could help you!”

  
  
Cas paused. “There is.. No. No, we can’t. I…” He rubbed one hand over his face, shaking his head, eyes still fixed on Gabriel. He threw his hand into the air, letting it fall again. “I don’t know. I just don’t know if it’ll work, Sam. I was a warrior, not a healer.”

  
  
“Cas, whatever you’re thinking, let’s try it, it’s worth a shot.” He gestured down at Gabriel’s still form. “Look at him, Cas; I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

Cas stared down at Gabriel, his lips thinning. He dithered for a moment more, then the steely determination closed behind his eyes as he made up his mind and decided on his strategy. “Fine. You’re right, it’s not like we can make the situation worse. I’ll go get the ingredients to bring the wings onto this plane, try and make him comfortable. This is going to be unpleasant.”

He turned, quickly striding out of the room, leaving Sam with Gabriel’s still body.

Sam took a deep breath, looking down at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, all his conflicting feelings about Gabriel were still bubbling like an unwatched pot, but he couldn’t afford to deal with them now. They’d have to wait. Gabriel’s wings came first.

Then it hit Sam that if everything went to plan, there would soon be two very corporeal, very injured wings that they’d need to operate on. Shit! He jumped to his feet. They’d need saline, and thread for stitching, and bandages, and-

He hesitated, looking back at Gabriel.

Would he be okay for five minutes?

He’d have to be.

  
  
Sam ran to the infirmary and came bustling back not even five minutes later, out of breath, arms laden with most of their little surgery. Apparently, the Men of Letters had been nothing if not prepared to the point of paranoia, and Sam was thankful for it now. He dropped his armful of sterile bandages onto a nearby chair, arranged the scalpels as neatly as he could. 

Gabriel’s still form drew his eye again. The memory of his voice drifted back, _‘I’m soft as butter for you...’_

If it was the truth, then Gabriel had certainly never let him see it. Sam sighed, shaking his head to himself. He hadn’t been lying earlier. He did need Gabriel- he needed Gabriel to be alright, to be a sign that he could make something right. That recovery was possible. Gabriel had always been the one angel that seemed to actually get what he was going through, even if he was jaded and bitter about the apocalypse and Sam’s part in it. Gabriel had annoyed him, frustrated him to the ends of the earth, but despite that Sam had cared about him. Every time they’d met in secret had cemented that caring a little more, but Sam had viciously shoved it down, because neither of them could afford it. Not then. There was no way they could have been anything more, and he had been certain Gabriel would laugh disdainfully at him if he ever dared suggest it.

And then he was dead, and it didn’t matter any more. Except it _did_ because Gabriel’s final resigned expression was all Sam could see every time he closed his eyes.

He hadn’t tried hard enough to save Gabriel the first time. Who was he to let this second chance slip through his fingers? Gently, Sam reached out, brushing one sweaty strand of hair behind his ears. He whipped his hand back when Gabriel stirred. He twitched, seemed to choke on nothing, froze. Then, to Sam’s horror, he started to seize in violent, whole-body convulsions. 

“No, no, Gabriel! Don’t you dare! CAS!!” Sam bellowed. Cas came rushing back into the room a half-second later, shoving a pestle into Sam’s hands.

“Grind that,” He instructed shortly, and Sam did, horribly aware of Gabriel’s gasping breathing on the table behind him, of Cas holding down his thrashing limbs until he was reduced to just trembling. 

As soon as Sam was done, Cas was there. “Stand back.” he snatched the pestle back off him, dumped the contents into the bowl, sliced his hand open to let a drop of blood fall in, and then lit the whole contents with a spark of grace. 

Sam barely had time to take half a step away before there was a massive WHUMP of misplaced air. He ducked on instinct. Gabriel gave a horrible, gargled cry, but that quickly cut off into silence again.

Sam opened his eyes and gaped at the scene in front of him.

Gabriel’s wings were glorious. A thousand shades of gold and black and white. They stretched out ten, fifteen meters, dangling over the sides of the table in a half-spread slump, metallic feathers gleaming as they caught the light, broad primaries fanned out across the library floor. Sam’s eyes trailed over them, over the bold scalloping of bright gold and white flecking the coverts and tertials making them look almost dappled, the darker sheen of the primaries. They were beautiful.

They were also very clearly broken. 

The smaller feathers over the top of the wings were rucked up and bloodied. Red stained the white edges of the feathers crimson, dripped down to puddle on the table. There was something… wrong with the way they were held. The slump of them over the edge of the table was alarmingly loose. Boneless. The left one that Sam was closer to was worse, depressions and bulges of bones pressing out against the skin where he instinctively knew they shouldn’t be.

  
“This is the closest to their true form that you could comprehend.” Cas spoke up, his voice tight. “His grace recognised your presence and poured his form into one you’d find familiar, but the principle should still work. Hopefully. I thought he would fit on the table, but he’s too long like this. We need to get the wings onto the table so I can set the bones. Pull that other table over.”

But before Sam could move, Gabriel’s eyes snapped open. 

They glowed blue as his gaze flicked between them, seeing without comprehension. Wild with grace. Sam and Cas were frozen.

“...Gabriel?”

  
Before Sam could blink, Gabriel was up.

Faster than Sam thought would have been possible for any creature with two enormous wings, Gabriel rolled off the table and to his feet, staggering away from them, his wings slumped and trailing behind him like a grotesquely bloodstained train. Sam jumped forwards, trying to stop him, but Gabriel hopped away, that badly broken left wing fanning even further, and Sam hesitated. 

“Sam, stop!” Cas yelled, and Sam halted. The last thing they needed was Gabriel trying to fly. He clearly didn’t know who they were at the moment- he was watching them warily from the corner of the library, his wings crooked stiffly around himself at painful-looking angles. The feathers at the top were standing on end, fluffed up like hackles. “Let me try.”

Cas approached him, hands up to catch him like he was a wild animal they were trying to capture, but Gabriel snarled at him, a guttural sound. His wings tried to lift in threat for a second before slumping back in defeat, the snarl dying into a whimper of pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Sam edged forwards past Cas, his hand out, trying to calm him. The growling stopped as Gabriel’s eyes focused on him, the glow dimming away. “Yeah, that’s it. Come on, Gabe, we’re trying to help. You’ll let me try and help you, yeah?” 

Sam took another step, and another, until he was close enough to touch. Gabriel was absolutely stock still, frozen except for his chest, billowing with fast, panicked breaths. “Not gonna hurt you.” Sam reached out, touching the least bloodstained section feathers at the top top the closest wing and stroking. He felt it flinch at first under his fingers, then it relaxed, the feathers de-fluffing just a little.

“See? Come on. That’s it,” as gently and slowly as he could, Sam reached down, took one of Gabriel’s hands in his, then the other. He tugged gently, leading him back to the tables, walking backwards. Gabriel came with him, eyes still fixed on his. Sam stopped when he felt the table bump the back of his legs, moving around it to gently help Gabriel to lie down on his belly again.

He looked up to see Cas watching him with something odd and conflicted behind his eyes. “What is it, Cas?”

  
  
Cas shook his head, dispelling the strange expression. “Nothing.”

“S’m… Wha’…?”

Sam looked down sharply. Gabriel had his head twisted to blink up at him, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Sam crouched down to his level, his heart lifting with relief at the mind he could see behind Gabriel's familiar eyes again.

“Hey, hey. I’m here. Don’t try to move.”

Gabriel huffed, and Sam had no doubt that if he was in better shape he’d be making all sorts of inappropriate comments. Gabriel’s hand was searching again, and before he thought about it, Sam reached out to grasp it. Gabriel’s hand was clammy, but his grip was strong. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Cas turned away, organising their surgical equipment a little too studiously. 

Gabriel was still looking at him, eyes focused on him, even if his gaze was dazed. The ghost of his usual smirk graced his lips.

“If I’d known this… this was the way to get you to hol-hold my hand, would have done it... a looong time ago.”

Sam let out a breath. Gabriel _would_ still try and joke while he was on his deathbed, but Sam’s heart was twisting inside his chest, and there was a hard lump in his throat, a prickling pressure behind his eyes. “If you wanted hand-holding, you should have just asked me out back at Crawford Hall, you idiot. You knew I liked you and you didn’t say anything.”

Gabriel huffed a laugh, but it came out as a rattling cough. “And then what? Pretend I was human and trail you and your dumbass brother around the country?”

  
  
Sam shrugged. “It could have worked. You’re good at illusions.”

  
  
“Not good enough for you. You’d have seen through me in the second week.”

  
  
Sam quirked a half-smile. “I dunno. I can be pretty dense when I don’t want to see what’s right under my nose.”

“The curse of foresight, huh? We’re too much alike.” Gabriel sighed. “And about that- ‘m sorry… ‘m sorry for everything I did back then… should have just told ya about the apocalypse…”

“Gabriel-”

“No, no, need to say it.” Gabriel closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I was so _angry,_ Sam. I was angry with my brothers really, but you were there, and… I knew what you were gonna be. And I thought you were gonna be like _him_. But you never were… you just wanted to fix things that couldn’t be mended. Even tried to bring me in, even after I hurt you after the Mystery Spot, and I…” He trailed off again, and Sam squeezed his fingers. “Should have told you- told you back then. Should have tried harder to stop it all… never wanted you to have to jump, Sam...” His voice was getting choked.

  
  
Sam rubbed his hand desperately, reaching out instinctively to wipe away the moisture in the corner of his eye, “Hey, hey, none of that. You’ve got time, you can tell me everything, everything you didn’t say back then, huh?”

But Gabriel‘s eyes had drifted shut, his breathing getting faster and more laboured. He was under again.

Sam felt Cas’ presence looming awkwardly over his shoulder. “Sam, we need to start. His grace is still depleting.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, let’s do this. What do we need, Cas?”

Reluctantly, Sam turned away from Gabriel, giving his hand one last squeeze before he dropped it.

“We need to get the wings onto the tables so we can set them. We’ll lift the wings and slide the tables under them.”

Sam nodded. Quickly, he pulled the next table across until it was just in front of where the wing drooped over the edge of the table.

Cas ushered him towards the wings again. “Good. Alright, here, take hold of the wing. I’ll push the table.” 

Sam reached forwards, trying to be gentle. It still seemed like the wings weren’t real, like his fingers would go right through them, but they were solid under his hands, heavy and thick with muscle, tendons standing out in ridges. The feathers were stiff and glossy as they appeared, slithering out of his grip like silk. Cas leaned over his shoulder, instructing. “You can grasp it harder than that, treat it like any other limb. Try and support the broken part, no, hold it there, yes that’s right. Then, on three, you lift and I’ll push the table under you, alright?” Cas moved around the table so that he was standing on the opposite side. Sam grasped the wing as gently as he could. Gabriel twitched.

“Three, two, one, now! Lift, Sam, lift!” 

Sam lifted the wing and winced as he felt the heavy, boneless flop of the limb as gravity tried to drag it down. Gabriel made a terrible raw wail at the back of his throat, his body twisting on the table. The legs scraped across the floor as Cas pushed the table under him. 

“Now the other one, Sam, come on!”

They hurried to the other side, trying to be as fast as they could, both of them wincing as Gabriel screamed again. Sam set down the wing as gently as he could before hurrying back to Gabriel’s side. Carefully, he petted over the quivering feathers. “We’re done, Gabe. It’s over, you did good.” 

Slowly, Gabriel’s hand reached out, curling into Sam’s shirt before he could take hold of it. His eyes were still tight shut, but his wings slumped just a little as he relaxed.

Cas grimaced over Gabriel’s shoulder with pity and regret obvious on his face. “Sam, we still need to set the bones.”

And then, with the worst timing known to man, there was a sudden flash of purple light as a rift opened further down the library. 

“Sam? Cas?” Sam craned his head around to see Dean step out of the crack, looking over the scene in confusion as he dropped his duffel to the floor. “Are those wings? Is that Gabriel? What the fuck is going-”

  
  
“Dean,” Cas interrupted him, drawing back from where he’d been prodding at one mangled shoulder joint, his hands stained red. “You’re just in time. Come here. You can help me stem the blood and hold the splints in place.”

  
  
Dean balked. “Hey, not so fast! Not until you tell me what’s-”

  
  
“Now, Dean!”

In any other situation, Sam would have thought it was hilarious the way Dean jumped at the order, but he was too concerned with Gabriel’s tight grip on his shirt. He bent down closer to him. “Dean’s here, We’re gonna get you sorted, okay?”

He got a shock when Gabriel’s eyes flew open and a raw yell burst out of him. Sam looked up to see Cas using both hands to manipulate the joint of the left wing, only to stop as the other tried to flap in an instinctive bid for escape.

“Hold him!” Cas growled. All the color had drained from Dean’s face, but he obeyed, leaning on the other wing. Sam pinned Gabriel’s torso to the table, and they both watched on in horror as Cas leaned against the wing and _pulled_ it away from Gabriel’s body.

Gabriel didn’t even scream this time. Sam could see him breaking out in a sweat, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Gabe? Gabe, stay with me, come on. Nearly there.”

There was an awful grinding crunch. Gabriel lurched under Sam’s hands, gagged against the table. Then he went limp. Sam felt a stab of fear, his fingers darting out to press against Gabriel’s neck, but he sighed with relief when he found the pulse there. 

“He’s out,” He called to Cas and Dean.

“Probably for the best,” Cas said, his eyes still narrowed as he manipulated the wing. There was a horrible sound of bone grinding on bone that made Sam’s toes curl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean grimacing. Gabriel twitched, but to Sam’s relief, he didn’t wake.

The surgery seemed to take forever. Cas’ hands were stained darker and darker with Gabriel’s blood, his scowl growing deeper as time ticked past half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half. Every time Sam looked over Gabriel’s shoulders, Cas’ hand flashed up, needle gleaming in his grip, thread trailing dark behind, but no number of stitches seemed to be able to stem the flow. Sam did his best to watch Gabriel’s still face instead. Even unconscious, his expression was drawn in pain, little involuntary flinches running through him every time Cas pulled the thread tight. Sam found himself running his fingers through the soft hair at the back of Gabriel’s neck and couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Finally, Cas tossed aside the last pad of blood soaked gauze in frustration and disgust. “It’s no good. This isn’t working. I thought once they were aligned correctly his grace would take over and heal him,” Cas growled to himself, his brows drawn down into a confused frown. “So why isn’t he healing?”

“Maybe it isn’t aligned properly,” Dean suggested from where he was sterilising rags to use as extra padding.

Cas rounded on him with a scowl. “The wing is aligned perfectly!”

Dean raised his hands. “Just throwin’ out suggestions here, Cas.”

But Cas shook his head, still muttering to himself. “He’s too structurally damaged. The bones are broken too badly, they’ll never heal as they are. I can plug the grace leakage temporarily, but it won’t hold for long. There’s only one other option, and that would be a transplant...”

“A transplant?” Sam asked him. “As in grace?”

“Yes,” Cas bit out in frustration, still scowling down at the mangled wing, “but I’m a seraph and Gabriel is an archangel. We might be distantly related by origin, but in reality we’re made of very different forms of grace- I can’t heal him. And there are no archangels left, or certainly none that Gabriel would wish to be… bonded with that closely. If we could only find something else similar in structure...”

“What else is similar in structure, Cas?”

Cas’ eyes darted up to meet his, then away again. “Nothing,” He replied, too fast. 

Sam huffed a humourless laugh. “Cas, you’re an awful liar. Just tell us what it is.”

Cas looked at him again, meeting his eyes properly this time, and Sam could see the consideration behind them, the embryo of a plan. Cas glanced sideways at Dean, then took a deep breath. “There is… one other thing, that might do. Might,” he emphasized, holding up a hand to stall Sam’s excitement. “You have to understand. I can’t heal him, Sam. Seraphim and archangels might be grouped together, but our graces are as incompatible as hares and rabbits. Archangel grace is more morphologically similar to human souls than to what I’m made of.” 

“Well? That’s not so bad! Come on, let’s go get some soul energy, not like we haven’t gone down that road before,” Dean encouraged, straightening up. 

“Dean, it’s not as simple as that.” Cas closed his eyes, as though the knowledge he was imparting physically pained him. “It’s not soul energy, it’s souls _themselves_. And only very specific souls. The reason that the two of you can be possessed by archangels is because both of your souls resonate on a very similar frequency to archangel grace. They might be finely tuned to Michael and Lucifer, but the archangels were similar enough in that regard that I don’t believe it will matter. But that’s irrelevant, because I refuse to do that to either of you.”

“Why not?” Sam objected, gripping Gabriel’s limp hand tighter. “It’ll save his life, right? He’s your brother, Cas!”

“What?” Dean was looking between them, not following the conversation.

Cas slammed his bloodied hands down on the table hard enough that Sam jumped, leaning forward to loom over him. “Sam,” Castiel growled, almost snarled at him, “Do you understand what you are asking me to do? What terrible act of harm you are asking me to perform? I would be ripping your soul, Sam, I would be fracturing it irreparably. The soul of my friend-” His voice broke. 

“Cas, look,” Sam tried awkwardly. “My soul’s already kinda cracked, right? I’m held together with spit and string in here. You wouldn’t be doing any damage that hasn’t already been done. Just take one of the broken off bits and patch him up.”

Dean sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide as he worked out what they were discussing. “Sam! No!”

“No. You don’t understand, Sam. Lucifer might have cracked you, but he knew better than to remove any parts. If I did it wrong it would _destroy_ you. Remember Raphael’s original vessel?”

Sam had a flash to the man with that blank stare, nothing flickering behind his eyes. “But…” his brain spun, “Surely, if I was gonna end up like that, I would have been like that when I got back from hell? That was when my soul was most damaged, right?”

Cas scrubbed one hand against his face, leaving rusty red streaks across one cheekbone. “Sam. Poking at souls is like performing brain surgery with a pickaxe. Yes, I could get lucky, or more likely I could remove an essential piece and risk you being damaged so deeply that your soul disintegrates. Either that or you explode and wipe this bunker off the map.”

“I’m doing it anyway.” Sam said quietly.

Dean shook his head. “Sammy-”

  
  
“No! I’m not giving up on him!”

  
  
Sam’s yell was too loud. Cas and Dean stared at him in the ringing silence that it left. Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I thought he was gone, Dean! And then we just got him back, and who else have we got, huh?” He sighed, looking down at Gabriel’s hand in his. “My whole life, people have been choosing what I would be, what I would become, what I would and wouldn’t do. I got moulded to become the Boy King, then Lucifer’s vessel. Hell, even you wouldn’t let me die when I wanted to.”

  
  
Dean looked away in guilt, but this wasn’t about that. Sam kept going. “So please, Cas, just this once, let me do this! Let me make at least one thing right.”

Cas stared at him, sombre. “You’re sure?”

  
  
“Sammy-” Dean interrupted, But Cas held up his hand. Dean fell silent again, glancing between them, stricken.

Sam nodded, meeting Cas’ deep blue gaze with as much conviction as he could muster. “I’m sure.”

Slowly, Cas nodded, glancing at Gabriel’s body, curled up under his wings on the table. “Okay. But only on one condition.”

  
  
“What is it?” 

  
“Gabriel has to consent to it too. It’s his grace we’ll be patching up with fragments of soul.”

  
Of course, Sam realised with a guilty jolt. They hadn’t even asked the person this would affect the most. “How do we wake him up?” he asked. 

  
Instead of replying, Cas leaned down and placed one hand against Gabriel’s forehead. His eyes closed, a frown appearing between him. “So weak,” Sam heard him murmur to himself.

But then there was a brief blue glow, and Gabriel drew in a shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering. Sam sighed in relief as he let out a long groan, fingers twitching in Sam’s grasp. 

“Gabe? Come on, come back.”

“Ah, shit. Why the hell did you wake me up? What the hell did I ever do to you, huh?” Gabriel asked through gritted teeth, his eyes still closed. “Wait, don’t answer that. Just stick the archangel blade in me. Mercy killing.”

“Gabe, we think we’ve figured out a way to help, but we need you to say yes.”

Gabriel paused at that, chest still heaving, but he made an obvious effort as he pried one eye open to stare at Sam. “What kinda crazy scheme have you three mooks cooked up this time?”

“My soul.”

  
  
Gabriel froze. His gaze darted from Sam to where Cas was still looming over him. “Baby bro, please tell me he’s joking.”

“Regrettably, I don’t believe so.”

Gabriel turned back to Sam, wincing and drawing in a sharp little breath as the movement shifted the wings. Sam watched him take a moment to collect himself before meeting his gaze. “Dad above, what is it with you Winchesters and trying to defy fate, huh?” he said, obviously trying for cool and collected but it didn’t work with his voice cracking under barely-concealed agony.

This wasn’t going to work. As long as Dean and Cas were there, Gabriel was going to deflect and disguise until it would be too late. They didn’t have time for that. He had to tackle this head on. Sam turned his head up to look at Cas, his hand not leaving Gabriel’s grip. “Cas, can you leave us alone for a second? We need to talk.”

Cas nodded slowly, his blue eyes searching. “Of course. We’ll be… over there.” He turned, grabbing Dean by the arm as he went and marching him off despite his protests. Sam had to smile. Cas really had grown into an excellent friend. 

  
Gabriel let out a long sigh, slumping onto the table even more. “Why you always gotta be so self-sacrificing, huh?”

Sam’s mouth twisted wryly as he echoed Gabriel’s words from earlier. “Guess it runs in the family.”

They were quiet for a second, both of them lost in thought. “I’m guessing I’m all out of alternatives,” Gabriel said, more quiet and serious than Sam had ever heard him.

“Yeah. This is kind of a last resort.”

Gabriel’s eyes bored into his, Golden and dark. “What if I say I want you to let me die, huh? What then?”

  
  
Sam shook his head, because he already knew the answer to that. He’d seen it. “You don’t want to die. You always wanted so badly to survive.” Gabriel’s lips pursed together as he looked away, and Sam knew him well enough to know that expression meant he’d caught on to something Gabriel had wanted to keep hidden. He leant back. “I thought so.”

  
  
“Hey, some of us aren’t as suicidal as you, kiddo,” Gabriel fired back. “I wanna live. But that doesn’t mean I want you to get ripped to shreds because of me.”

Sam shrugged, half an eye on the furious whispered conversation Dean and Cas were having at the other end of the room. “If it’s any consolation, this isn’t a martyr thing. I hope I make it too. We have that conversation to have still.”

When he looked back down, Gabriel had his head tilted, looking at him with avian curiosity. “You really mean that, don’t you? You’d really risk your life for me?”

“Yes,” Sam answered honestly.

Gabriel stared into his eyes a moment longer. Then he took a deep breath, his wings letting out a little shiver. “Fine. Yes. Do it.” 

Sam nodded, then stood, calling the others over. Cas took in Gabriel’s curt nod at a glance, then immediately began bustling around them, presumably preparing for the soul transplant. Dean came to a stop in front of Sam. Sam braced himself for the shouting match.  


But although Dean’s eyes were tight and angry, all he did was tug Sam into an unexpected hug. 

“I gotta let you make your own decisions, right?” He spoke against Sam’s ear, his voice rough, “even if they’re dumbass decisions.”

Sam gripped him back, hands fisting in his jacket. “I’m coming back, Dean. Promise.”

  
  
“You’d better,” Dean muttered against his shoulder. “Alright.” He drew back, taking in a deep breath. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

Cas was already there. “We have to hurry Sam, he hasn’t got long. Take off your shirt.”

Sam didn’t bother asking why, just stripped off his shirt, and the undershirt beneath that. Cas swiped his fingers through the blood pooling below Gabriel’s broken wing, reaching out with two fingers to paint a line of unfamiliar enochian across his pecs in swicky red.

“Good. Now. Get on the table.” Cas was bustling around, shoving chairs out of the way like he was clearing a blast zone. “You have to be in close proximity for this to work. Living souls don’t conduct through the mortal plane very well. We need you both face to face for the best transduction. Dean, it would be better if you stood back- I’m not sure how much energy discharge there will be.”

Awkwardly, Sam shuffled around the table. He realised with a sinking feeling that there was no way to get them pressed together without disturbing the wings.

Cas had obviously come to the same conclusion. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, we… we need to fold them.”

  
  
Gabriel closed his eyes. “Just make it quick.”

“Hey,” Sam grasped his hands, half restraint, half comfort. “I got you, don’t worry.”

Gabriel managed half a smile, but that broke as Cas picked up the nearest wing and pulled it up and back in one smooth motion. 

Gabriel _screamed_. 

The air itself quivered under the sound. The glass of the map table cracked with a sharp retort. One, two, three bulbs shattered in a sequence of white-bright bursts of light. Sam held on to Gabriel even as he cringed back, pain drilling into his skull, boring into his ears, oh God make it stop-

Abruptly, the scream cut off. The banisters still resonated with the sound in the sudden silence, a low-pitched tuning fork hum.

Sam shook his head, dazed. He could feel warm liquid tracking down from his ear towards his neck. Everything was dull and muffled, the library swimming in front of his eyes.

A hand closed on his shoulder and he jumped. He looked up to see Cas, his mouth moving, but Sam couldn’t hear a word, just that same high-pitched ring. Cas was gesticulating down, and Sam followed his pointing hand. 

His stomach dropped. 

Gabriel’s wing was folded back, the underside of it exposed, a broad swathe of the delicate down feathers lining it dyed crimson by his own blood. But more importantly, Gabriel’s eyes were closed, his face almost grey. His chest was barely moving. 

Cas leaned in and Sam heard his yell, muffled even though Cas was bellowing into his year, “Sam. Get on the table. Now!”

Sam jumped up at the urgency in his voice. With no time for awkwardness, he climbed onto the table. Gathering Gabriel’s limp too-warm form into his arms, he tucked him as close as he could against his chest, his hands bumping against the solid muscle where the extra limbs sprouted from his back. Gabriel’s breath puffed hot and shallow against his throat.

Cas laid a hand on his shoulders, and Sam nodded, seeing the question in his eyes. He looked past him to Dean’s face, still pale and stricken. He tried to pour it all into his gaze; and Dean nodded, his eyes falling closed, adam’s apple bobbing.

Sam hugged Gabriel tighter to him, arms buried in feathers. He was getting hotter, he noted. A slow, dangerous golden glow had started to emanate from him, like radiation leaking from Chernobyl. It was only a matter of time before the grace burst out of him and burnt those wings to ash. Now or never.

“Okay. I’m ready, Cas.”

Cas closed his eyes once again, his hands still on their shoulders, and Sam closed his own. He buried his face into Gabriel’s hair, a stray feather tickling his cheek. Sam would put him back together this time. He had to. For both of their sakes.

Suddenly, Sam felt Cas’ hand press hard between his shoulder blades, and didn’t even have time to brace himself.

There was a sharp pain. A ripping feeling, like someone had pulled his lungs out backwards of his chest in a half-second. 

A flash of light, brighter and warmer and more radiant than staring into the sun.

Oh. 

  


And he was gone.

…

The first thing Sam felt when he woke was that something was missing. Some part inside of him was horribly, horribly empty, and he needed to find that missing piece or something terrible, something _awful_ was going to happen-

There was a rustle of wings. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the sensation was gone. 

Sam sat up with a gasp, still clutching at his chest. 

He was in his room in the bunker, he realised as he looked around. His mind spun back- Gabriel, the wings, the awful way he’d screamed, that last flash of light. What had happened? Where was he? He felt a stab of fear- maybe Gabriel hadn’t made it. Maybe they had been too late. Maybe he’d go into the library and find the cold ashes of Gabriel’s wings burnt into the floor-

“Finally awake, huh?” Came a voice from behind him, interrupting his worrying.

  
  
Sam whirled. 

Gabriel was sitting behind him on the bed, cross-legged, watching him with hawk-sharp eyes. And cupped around him and behind him, neatly folded, were the wings.

Feathers spilled out across his shoulders and down his back in a cape of gold and black and white, the flight feathers neatly folded. Any trace of blood was gone. But more than that, they looked natural. There was no pain in Gabriel’s posture, no hesitation as they shifted and ruffled themselves behind him under Sam’s attention.

Whole. Gabriel was whole.

“You made it,” Sam breathed. He laughed. “We both made it!”

“Sure did, but it was touch and go for a while there. It shouldn’t have worked, but your dumbass Winchester luck pulled it off again.” Gabriel shuffled closer, grinning like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “It worked, Sam. Your soul healed me. It’s right here, see?” He took Sam’s hand, pressed it against his chest in a motion that made Sam’s stomach do a strange little flip. 

And sure enough, Sam could feel something there, under the skin of Gabriel’s sternum. It glowed. It called to him. “We’re gonna have to be joined at the hip for a week or so,” he realised Gabriel was saying, “but it should settle down after that. Then we can try and give it back to you.”

Sam looked up, drawing his hand away. “What?” 

Gabriel sighed. “Look, Sam. You’ve spent your whole life trying to fix things that weren’t your fault. Things that a lot of the time were beyond your ability to fix, but you took it on anyway, because that’s just who you are. The apocalypse, my family… now me.” Gabriel turned half away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “You shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have had to do that. You shouldn’t have to give chunks of yourself away.”  
  
Sam watched him for a moment as he gathered his words. He stared at Gabriel’s profile, the swoop of his hair and the strong bridge of his nose. The curve of his shoulders and the outline of the wings tucked against them as he hunched them on the bed, his hands braced on the edge. 

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”  
  
Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, because you value your own well-being below everybody and everything else. And it makes me mad, Sam, because your life has _made_ you like this, totally destroyed your self-esteem to the point you think that your only purpose is to fix things that other people broke, heaven and hell, and I had a part in that…” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be alive. But kid, you gotta take care of yourself.”

Sam just nodded. “I know, but… It was more than that. It was about _you_. I couldn’t just leave you to die. Not after everything. I’ve lost too many-” He drew in another deep breath, reaching towards the gossamer silhouetted of wings. “I could heal you. You think I could have ever forgiven myself if I let you die and I could have done something? If I just let you go again?”

Gabriel cocked his head sideways at him, turning back towards him. A sad smile twitched in the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were full of a fond warmth, a softness that Sam had only ever briefly glimpsed before, laid out for him to see. “You’re always trying to fix things, aren’t you? Even at the ultimate cost to yourself.” 

Sam looked down. “I’d do it again to save you. You know I would. You were right- I think it’s who I am.”

He didn’t dare look at Gabriel. Because he knew, if he looked at him, everything inside him would come spilling out. But before he could turn away, a hand gently took his chin. He opened his eyes in shock when soft lips met his. But then Gabriel turned his head and slotted them together, opened his mouth, and Sam groaned as he gave in, reaching up to cup the back of his head and pull him in, drowning in heat, and warmth, and the pounding of their hearts. Under his hands he could feel them both, his soul and Gabriel’s grace, twined together. There was a rustle, and Sam felt the weight of feathers coming to rest against his back as enormous wings folded themselves around them both.

Slowly, Gabriel pulled away. Sam looked up. Golden eyes drew back to stare into his, joyful as a sunrise, earnest as a promise. “Well, this time it’s my turn to do the fixing, kiddo. Somebody has to put you back together, too.”

…

Somewhere, in the scrub behind a decrepit motel, something stirs under a pile of rocks. 

It starts as barely a shiver of movement. But then a piece of gravel on one side trembles, teeters, rolling away. More join it, and more, larger rocks starting to shift as something emerges from the ground.

The bird shakes itself free, ruffling its plumage to clear it of the last of the dust, fluffing itself until the feathers settle back in their proper places. It blinks up at the rising sun with dark, bright eyes. It flicks its long-dormant wings. 

It hops up onto the top of the little cairn, standing proud in the new light. It opens its beak. 

And it sings, and sings, and sings.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
